Gallbladder is one word, not two. I’ve learned that with all the internet research I’ve done in the last month. It seems to me that it should be two words. But it’s not; it’s one.
It turns out your gallbladder is important but not critical. So when it starts giving you trouble the basic doctor response is, “Eh, let’s take it out.” And so, less than two months after I became aware of my gallbladder it is gone.
I went into the hospital at 6:30 on Monday and was home by the earlier afternoon. I have spent most of my time since that laying on the couch, laying in bed, watching West Wing, and staring off into space. I’m off pain meds and can get up and about but I tire easily. Having an organ taken out of your body, even when it’s a small one and they do it laparoscopically, takes a lot out of you.
I had this unreasonable expectation that this week would relaxing. I imagined I’d lay on the couch, with the sun streaming in the window, and I’d spend hours reading, do some art, and maybe write a little. But I’ve barely had the brain space to read Facebook posts, let alone read the commentary on the Beatitudes that I bought for this week. I’ve slept a lot, enough to keep me awake but not enough to make me feel alive…I believe that’s coming.
I expected to heal and be restored quickly because I was in denial about the depth of the (medically-induced)injury. I have a tendency to underestimate my limitations. I think I should be able to accomplish more, in less time, and feel better about it than I actually can/have/do.
This week has been a very tangible reminder that my expectations are unreasonable.
God’s been (strongly) hinting that I need to set more realistic expectations of myself and what I’m able to accomplish in a day. He’s been challenging me to create more margin in my life. I don’t know how to do this. But I’m trying.
As I’m typing this paragraph, I’m sitting at home while my team is leading my event without me. We’ve got over 50 volunteers from two different churches hosting over 70 kids from foster and adoptive families so their parents can have a worry-free night out. I hate that they are there without me.
But it turns out they’re just fine without me. In fact, they just texted me a funny picture showing me that they’re having fun and everything is working fine…without me. I’m sitting this one out, unintentionally creating a little margin, and I’m reminded that I’m not as necessary as I think I am.
Here’s to limits, to learning what they are, and what I need to do to avoid reaching them. Here’s to trusting God is at work, even when I am not. Here’s to letting go…just a little…and trusting God…just a little more.
(also, I should say, if you want to join our team, you can, here)